Knowing

He knows. So, he can pretend. He knows how, and actually it's necessary nearly all the time. Because, almost everyone believes in it, time that is. Everyone thinks that it exists. 

But, he knows it doesn't exist at all, anywhere. Time is the principal yardstick of relative perspective and distance, that's all; a finite tool. Space-time is the working fabric woven from historical scientific agreement, a measurable way to deduce our relative position in the constantly moving cosmos.  

Observing, we see things aging in a most convincing manner of birth, decay, and demise. From the tiniest nano organisms to the most massive galactic structures, there are undeniable cycles of creation, destruction.

But, he's not fooled, knowing it is illusory, time as the pragmatic invention of human thought, or, a Creator's shorthand math of comprehension for imagining vastly inconceivable distances, scales and magnitudes so great that they are constantly expanding even further out, all things moving away from all things at an increasing speed. Time is neither here nor there, yet, we're so sensory convinced that time is truly somewhere, that it's a constant influence on our understanding of reality. 

He can pretend his way thru his day knowing he walks within the illusion of seperate moments passing, when throughout the universe there is only the primal moment, unfolding its glory.

If you on occasion feel all this instinctively, you may see the face of God in every sky, or you may feel the breath of God in every wind, or you may see the presence of God in all things.

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